


Every end marks a new beginning

by Sugar_and_honey



Category: Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, RPF, Romance, Sexual Tension, Smut, gwendolaj - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugar_and_honey/pseuds/Sugar_and_honey
Summary: This story begins when Gwen and Nik are shooting their last scene together - the scene-that-shall-not-be-named. An unscripted line that Nikolaj says upsets Gwen, getting her to ponder their relationship. Are they coworkers? Or friends? Or best friends?Or, perhaps, more than that?Update : While I have not abandoned this work, life has left me with very less time to focus on it. I am going to finish it, for sure, but I can't put a date to it. So yes, the story will see an end but the updates will be far apart.
Relationships: Gwendoline Christie/Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 72
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!  
> While I'm not exactly new to the Braime fandom, I've only just got my Ao3 profile. Amazed by the tons of Braime fics this fandom has blessed us with and content with them, I decided to experiment with RPF. I had the first chapter written some days back, but had to wait to post.  
> A few things before I begin-  
> 1\. This is an RPF, so if you're uncomfortable or if it offends you, I would request you to refrain from reading  
> 2\. I know nothing about the entertainment industry. So a lot of my writing involves assumptions about how things work in showbiz  
> 3\. Lastly, thank you for going ahead to read this :)

_“Stay with me,” she begged him, bursting into tears. “Please… stay!”_

_Jaime looked into her eyes, and for one tiny second she thought he would oblige her. But her hopes were shattered even before her brain had finished exploring the possibility. He took away the hand that covered her wrist, and with a steely expression, said, “I don’t love you anymore,” in a tone of finality, brutally cutting through her heart with the sharpness of these terrible words._

Shocked, Gwen slumped to the ground. What the fuck was Nikolaj talking? This line was not in the script they had rehearsed. Though their separation was downright pathetic and an ugly end for Brienne’s brief tryst with romance, it was not meant to be this harsh. Sobbing uncontrollably, she looked deeply into his eyes, imploring him to stay. When he mercilessly chose to stick to his decision, she shut her eyes, unable to watch him turn back and ride away. 

This time her grief and disappointment were not just Brienne’s. Hanging on to one last thread of hope, she glanced up at the departing figure again, willing him to spare her one last look, but he kept going, ripping her heart into a million minute shreds.

“Cut,” yelled the director, and the crew around her dispersed, one or two of them approaching her to congratulate her on the fantastic performance. 

But she sat where she was, dazed and unresponsive long after Nik--no, _Jaime_ , had left the scene. This was supposed to be an act and her tears, Brienne’s, but somehow it felt real. The emotions, they way they had shot it and everything else about this scene was not just about the show. Tonight was her final scene with Nikolaj, their last act that would bring their _‘Braime’_ arc to a close. They had thrived across the years of character development and seasons of relationship progression, the thickest of friends on the sets, buddies who often left the rest of the cast jealous of their chemistry and amazing equation, only for everything to end on such a horrible low. How disappointing this would be for the fans of the pair! 

Not just for the show’s consumers, it left a sour taste in her mouth too. And after tonight, all of this would come to an end. She would never cross paths with Nik again. Unless another project brought them together, until another Game of Thrones came by to reunite them.

A resounding crash startled her out of her brooding and she stood up, blinking back the rest of what was supposed to be her fake tears.

“Nikolaj has fallen off his horse,” someone answered her anxious wordless questions when Gwen looked around for the source of the noise. Immediately she hurried toward the gate in panic, worried about the safety of her friend.

The crowd cleared, making way for her when she neared the spot. “I hope you’re okay!” she exclaimed, looking for signs of broken limbs as she rushed to be by his side.

Supported by two of the crew on either side, Nik limped toward a corner. “A sprain from the looks of it,” he told her with a grimace. “Knee’s taken a nasty bump.”

“How the hell did you manage to do that?” she asked, surprised that an accomplished rider like him would meet with a freak accident like this. It had happened just outside the gate and he wasn’t even speeding.

He pointed to his horse. “Lurched without reason, throwing me off,” he groaned. Crashing into the chair they had brought in for him, he remarked with a wry smile. “Even the poor animal didn’t approve of what Jaime did I guess,” lowering his voice so that no one but her could hear him.

While she usually had a spanking retort to anything and everything he said, this time Gwen didn’t react. She forced herself not to, choosing to keep mum. This wasn’t the right forum to discuss their dissatisfaction with the script or how they had been asked to enact the scene.

When the men around them bustled around occupying themselves with other chores, Nik leaned forward in his chair to look at her face. “What’s wrong, Gwen?” In a hushed whisper, he continued to question her, concerned eyes searching hers for a reason. “Are you crying?”

“No,” she quickly denied, trying to sound cheerier than she felt. “I… I’ll better get going,” she said, suddenly uncomfortable with speaking to him in front of so many people. “Good night, Nikolaj.”

He continued to scrutinise her eyes. “Night, Gwen,” he replied, saying nothing else.

*~*

This was it. This was the end. And it kept haunting her, the way their on-screen love story had been brought to a close. It was far from satisfying, not just for Jaime or Brienne, but for her as well. 

Gwen looked at herself in the mirror. Sans the make-up and her eyes all puffy and red from crying, she looked more like Brienne from the last scene than herself. She wasn’t done with the show yet. There were still a couple of more scenes to be shot, but they didn’t involve Nik. She was a thorough professional. Such things had never mattered to her. Why then did she want to put everything aside and go home? Even thinking about her oncoming scenes left her with an aching heart and dissatisfaction.

Particularly the white book scene which was going to demand all her emotional strength.

“I must stop thinking so much,” she told herself when she looked at the time. It was past 2 a.m, time to catch-up on whatever sleep she could get before she travelled to London tomorrow for a break after which she had to return to shooting. Without him. By the time she shot her final scene, Jaime would be long dead.

Dreading her battle against sleeplessness, she got into bed and under the covers when her phone pinged. It was a text from Nik which said, **“You looked upset. What’s wrong, wench?”**

 _Wench._ Gwen smiled to herself. It was something Nik called her in private, an expression of disappointment that he never got the opportunity to play Jaime as the character was originally written.

 **“It’s nothing. I’m just a little tired. The last few hours were stressful,”** she typed, then hit send. When done, she began staring at the phone, counting seconds on her watch while waiting with bated breath for a reply.

It came not before long. **“You still sound disturbed. Should I come over?”**

 **“What? No!!”** she wrote back, the prospect of meeting him alone in a hotel room this late in the night throwing her into a state of frenzy. **“I’m staying in a different hotel. You’re hurt and it’s not practically possible for you to--”**

Before she could finish typing, another message popped up. **“Open the door.”**

Her heart beating like mad in the dead silence of the night, she did as instructed. Beside herself when he slipped past her exactly the way Jaime had barged into Brienne’s bedchamber, she demanded with a curtness that surprised her, “What do you think you’re doing sauntering into my room in the middle of the night like that?” Only after he had entered did she notice the kneecap he had worn. “Your leg...” Her anger turned into anxiety immediately. “I hope--”

“I’m fine,” he brushed her off, limping his way in. “It’s just a sprain.”

“I don’t think you should be here, Nik.” She only called him Nik when they were alone or on the phone. In front of the world, it was always Nikolaj. Somehow _Nik_ felt more personal than necessary, something she couldn’t share with others. “People might notice. We shouldn’t leave room for gossip.” He was divorced and she had broken up with Giles but it still felt strange. They were coworkers and friends, nothing more than that.

“We can discuss later about what’s wrong and what’s right.” He looked angry. He sounded pissed off. “Go on, Gwen, out with it.”

She met his glare with defiance. “Out with what?”

He came closer and despite the fact that she was an inch taller than him, Gwen felt dizzy. While she had tried to hide it whenever they got together, either on set or in their interviews, she was just as vulnerable as the woman next door to the magnetic charm the man exuded. Probably more than the woman next door thanks to the nature of her job and the kind of bare-it-all scenes she had to share with him.

Nik reached out to touch her cheek, his expression softening. “You don’t look okay and you sound far from okay. Have you been crying?” His other hand enclosed her wrist. “And I don’t mean the scene, Gwen.”

All her resolve melted away with just his one touch. “I’m not crying but I still can’t get over it,” she lamented, struggling to drive away the low feeling that refused to leave her. “I don’t love you anymore?” she threw his line back at him, questioning Jaime’s cruelty. “Really, Nik? How the hell did that end up in the script without me getting to know about it?”

Nik sighed, bringing his hand down to her knuckles. “David asked me to improvise,” he told her, his sad eyes making it clear that bringing those nauseating words to life hurt him like hell. “He thought it would bring out a natural reaction from you.”

Gwen found it difficult to speak. “I daresay he was successful.”

Nik held her hand properly now. Her fingers were in his tight grasp. “So you were actually crying back there.”

“What else would I do?” she almost shouted. “You’ve been an actor for longer than me. You might be able to easily disconnect but I can’t, Jaime--”

“Nik,” he corrected her, “and I understand your pain. You think I’ve been enjoying rattling off such crap to you? I found it just as difficult, wench--”

“Stop calling me wench,” she said gruffly, not wanting to think about how much she was going to miss his sexy voice saying that. Once they had walked off on their separate ways, there would be no one to pull her leg, no one for her to argue with. She was going to miss him like hell.

He moved closer and Gwen pulled in her breath, the nerve-ends in her body tingling when his chest brushed against her breasts. “Fine,” he said softly, a delicious aroma of mint wafting off his breath. “I won’t if you don’t like it.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” she quietly accepted, trying not to ogle him. Be it casual clothes or the Jaime Lannister costume, he looked like the god Brienne thought him to be. “It’s not about that at all.” She didn’t know how to properly express herself, how to tell him that this went beyond Brienne’s feelings for Jaime.

He released her arm, letting his other hand tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “What is it about then?”

Gwen shivered when his fingers crossed her temple, trying not to think of how that hand would feel between her legs. She tried not to imagine those long fingers sandwiched in her cunt. In her line of work, being drawn to co-stars wasn’t uncommon, but this much attachment wasn’t good. Their mushy and intimate scenes were bound to have an effect on her, but this was bothersome to the level of alarming her. She had to cut it off before it grew into something dangerous and unstoppable. “It’s quite late. You’ve got to leave,” she said, pressing a restraining hand to his chest to keep him from coming closer. But the steady thudding of his heart made this virtually impossible for her.

Stung by her bluntness, he freed her from his touch and took a step backwards. “Tonight’s our last together in this show. You do realize that, I think?”

Collecting whatever remained of her composure, she forced herself to withstand his piercing eyes. “I do.”

“And you’ll keep in touch, I hope?”

She took a deep breath, not wanting to make false promises to herself nor raise her hopes. “I don’t know. I’m off to London tomorrow morning and you’re leaving for Belfast to shoot the rest of your scenes.” With Lena, Pilou, Peter… everyone except me, she added in her mind, still not able to come to terms with Jaime’s messy end.

The intense blue eyes refused to leave her alone. “I’m going to miss you, wench. I hope we get an opportunity to work together again.”

Having no answer to his wishful thinking she swallowed her emptiness to smile at him. “Bye, Nik.” 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nik finds himself in a strange predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented on the first chapter. My love to all of you who enjoyed the story and thanks a ton for all the kudos. I'm overwhelmed by your interest and you can't imagine the encouragement your lovely words have given me.  
> Hope you enjoy this offering too!

_She climbed into the tub from the opposite end, looking like a goddess. Her shapely figure was sexy as hell. Her smooth skin glowing in the soft lighting of the spacious bath, she could also be compared to a sculpture crafted to perfection. Her golden curls were wild and unruly and scattered around her shoulders, much longer and a far contrast to the trimmed bob Brienne used to sport. He liked her long hair just as much as her Brienne hair, but just like her flawless porcelain skin, it only added to the torture his aching groin was being put through._

_“Come on then,” he urged, hoping she would make it faster and put an end to his agony. “Come to me. Let’s see what you’ve got for us tonight.”_

_Resting his arms along the sides of the tub he watched as she approached him with a devilish smile, her eyes dancing merrily. Not wanting to surrender or show her how weak-kneed he was for her, he responded to her confident smile with what he thought was a smug expression. His dick, though, refused to remain still, twitching and shuddering under the steamy water, rising higher with every step she took toward him. Licking his lips in eager anticipation, he continued to check her out shamelessly like he had never seen a naked woman before, just like Jaime had, in Harrenhal. He wanted to grab her by her long hair and fuck her hard against the wall of the tub. He wanted to smash his mouth on hers and wipe that bloody smirk off her face. He wanted to--_

_But before he could finish compiling his wish list, she was already on top of him._

_“Fuck me, wench,” he commanded when she straddled him. His right hand came to rest on her hip, clamping her into position with an iron grip. “Hard and wild,” he insisted, kneading her ass, the feel of her pliant flesh under his groping fingers burning him with endless ripples of heat._

_He dragged his other hand up her damp front to meet the valley of her breasts, and she cried out his name - a feral cry of one writhing in the throes of passion. Thus began his ride through torture and ecstasy. She gyrated her hips, grinding against him, her burning wet cunt sucking in his cock bit by bit. One hand on his shoulder for support, she brought the other to her chest and began playing with her tits. One at a time, she pinched them and prodded them, biting her lip every time she pushed into him._

_“Let me,” he offered, keen to pleasure her, the sight before him turning him on even more. Shoving her hand away, he took over her chest with rough possessiveness._

_“Mmmm, that feels good,” she moaned, shutting her eyes when he took one of those hard pearls between his fingers. He gave it a little tug and she screamed loudly. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger and she shivered in delight, her hips pounding harder into his._

_“That’s it,” he growled, gripping her ass tighter and guiding her thrusts. “Ride me hard, Gwen. Faster.”_

_She opened her eyes to scorch him with a lust-filled gaze. “You’re getting old, Nik,” she warned, driving her hand up his throat. “I don’t think you can handle--”_

_“Oh, I’m strong enough.”_

_“Don’t you go all Jaime Lannister on me,” she teased, bending into him to sink her teeth so deep into his lip that she drew blood._

_Grabbing her hair, he yanked her away forcefully. “And don’t you underestimate me. I am strong enough, wench.” Wiping the blood off his mouth with his other hand, he pulled her close and kissed her hard before releasing her. “Next time, I’m going to fling you down and tear off your clothes,” he repeated Jaime’s words, lusting for a chance to execute his threat. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll beg me for respite. You’re going to forget everything else but me. I’m going to be the only thought in your head, Gwen, the only voice you hear, the only name on your pretty lips.” Looking deeply into the expressive eyes that always drove him nuts, he added, “Try me.”_

_So she did._

_She fucked him like hell, she rode him like crazy, her breasts jiggling when she bounced up and down, the pretty pink tits inviting more of his assault. “That’s more like it,” he roared, flicking his tongue over a nipple that crossed his path._

_Grunting, she doubled her pace, slamming into him, her breathing irregular, her moves punctuated by curses and dirty words unsuitable to her polished vocabulary. He reached out to touch and kiss her, his fingers and his mouth wreaking havoc on whatever piece of skin they could grab. “Fuck,” he shouted at the top of his voice, his volume high enough to rouse his neighbors. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he cussed even louder this time, unable to keep it within him, his end nearing, threatening to blow him to--_

“Fuck!” 

Nik woke with a start, clutching his chest. This time he had probably cried out aloud, living out his dream in reality. 

A dream.

Sighing heavily, he looked around for a second to ascertain his surroundings. Yes, he was alone. Yes, he was in his hotel room, though Gwen wasn’t too far away. He looked down at himself. Drenched in sweat despite the AC being on at full blast, he was reduced to a sorry mess. 

And no, he had not climaxed yet. His glorious dream had not granted him that favor. The unbearable ache in his crotch promptly brought his plight to his notice and to the extreme focus of his brain. 

Tight in his shorts, he felt stiff and uncomfortable and, much to his despair, sexually frustrated. He sat still for a while, the whole thing shocking him now that he was back to his senses. He was an actor with decades of training and experience. While he had shot more than just a kiss with Gwen, he had done tons of intimate scenes with actresses far and wide. A quick mental count told him he had filmed one love scene per season with Lena and so many kisses, more than he could count. But not once did his on-screen twin haunt him in such saucy dreams. It had been years of feigning intimacy with her, but never a single time did she torture him like this, gatecrashing his mind and occupying his subconscious.

A fleeting glance at his mobile told him that the time was 4 a.m. He had been asleep for just over an hour. First things first, he decided, and stepping out of his clothes, he stepped into the bathroom. Standing under the shower, he jerked into his fist, craving the release Gwen and his dream had denied him, relief washing over him only when he was done and over with it.

When he felt more relaxed, he re-visited the dream, poking his mind for causes of it. This--this strangely explicit dream was just a result of last night’s scene and his secret rendezvous with her before he had retired to bed. He had drifted off to sleep thinking about her and their last shoot together. This was just a hangover of the show he had to pull himself out of. He wasn’t Jaime and she wasn’t Brienne. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this about her.

Not Gwen. Not at all. She was a friend, and a good one, that too. He couldn’t spoil what they had.

When he was convinced he’d be okay, he stepped out and toweled himself dry. Digging through his suitcase, he pulled out another pair of comfy shorts and a tee. Once dressed and safely over whatever the last few minutes had taken him through, he sank into bed, reclining against his pillow, his knee throbbing again now that the distraction had passed. 

Alert as an owl with sleep having completely ditched him, he picked up his cellphone from the nightstand. **“Awake?”** he typed, and before he could contain himself, jabbed at the send button. And then he waited. First to come was the delivery notification with the indication that she had opened the message immediately tailing it. Would she reply? Would she dismiss it as unimportant and wait until morning?

 **“Yup,”** came her monosyllabic answer exactly two minutes later, and just as he was about to compose a reply, another one came close behind it. **“Why the hell are you texting me at 4 a.m, Nik?”**

 _Sorry to have bothered you_ , was what he should’ve written, but his response seemed to type itself out, spelling out his thoughts without a filter, and what came out was a drastically opposite and open ended, **“I dreamed of you.”** The candid confession was out of his phone and on its way to hers before he could think twice about sending it.

No answer. He caught his breath and hung on for a few more minutes. Five minutes went, then ten. Fifteen it was, and still nothing. He got up and began ambling aimlessly across the dimly lit room, the pain in his leg be damned. What the fuck had he done? This was inviting trouble. Had he just ruined the best friendship he had? Had the last eight or nine years of association come to an end thanks to his impulsive stupidity? 

To make amends, he began writing a hasty explanation when her name popped up once again in the notifications.

**“Hahaha. Show’s over, dude. Don’t you go all Jaime Lannister on me now.”**

Nik came to a halt, staring at the words on his screen. He could hear her voice in his head, her sultry lilt spraying the words across in a very different context. Just picturing her say that was enough to knock him off his feet, exactly the way she had done in his dream, inflicting varying degrees of torture on him. 

Filling his lungs with all the air he could, he pushed himself to calm down. This was all unreal. Jaime had never said this line on screen. Ignoring his limp, he began wandering the room again, toggling between states of agitation and composure. This was just a dream. It could never come true. He didn’t want such a thing to happen. Then he sat down again and helped himself to a glass of water.

 **“What’s keeping you awake at this hour? Don’t you have a flight to take in the morning?”** he asked, his fingers shaking as he put aside the dream for his mental good.

His phone beeped a minute and a half later. **“I** **haven't slept a wink since you left. Tried hard, though. Slipped in the bathroom when I went in to pee and lost my balance. Sprained knee I suppose and aching badly.”**

He looked up from the message. She was hurt. Alone and injured and unable to help herself in the middle of the night. Texting be damned, he closed the chat and brought up his last-dialed list. Fortunately he didn’t have to wait for long because she answered within two rings.

“Nik, I’m fine, it’s just a sprain,” she said before he could ask her anything. Her speech far from normal, it seemed like she was in a daze, the way she strung words together, slow and laborious.

“You sound odd,” he stated his observation. “Are you drunk or something?”

“Not drunk,” she immediately denied, then added in a guilty voice, “maybe a little. Or a little more than that. Maybe much more than just a little,” she admitted with a singsong edge to her musical voice.

“Have you done anything to soothe the pain?” he asked, pushing aside thoughts of what a drunk Gwen might be like to deal with. “A bandage, a painkiller or something?”

He could hear her breathe slowly and deeply. “I don’t have a bandage, Nik, and I’m out of medical supplies. The hotel’s just running with a skeletal night-shift staff and they couldn’t help me out either at this hour. I guess I have to hang on till morning--”

“I have a crepe bandage and some painkillers the medics on the set had given me,” he offered, opening his nightstand drawer to double check his claim. Determined not to give in to any objection she was likely to raise, he wanted to assist her in whatever way he could. “I’m coming there right away.”

“No, you’re not,” she snapped in response, sobering up for a moment to revert to her usual crisp tone. “I can manage, it’s nothing serious--”

“Stubborn as Brienne, you are, huh,” he shouted back. “For once stop arguing and listen to me, wench. Allow me to help.”

A long pause followed. Deathly silence was all over but for the hum of the AC and their rhythmic breathing. Had he offended her by imposing himself on her? Had he pushed his boundaries too far this time?

“You’re hurt too,” she said in a small voice after a while. “I don’t want you to come down all the way for my sake--”

“I’m just two doors away.”

“What?” she yelped. “Why didn’t you say so last night?”

“You never gave me a chance, Gwen. You were only interested in driving me away and getting me out of your sight.” He paused before eventually voicing the doubt that troubled him off and on. “If you’re put off by my presence--”

“Shut up, you know it’s nothing like that,” she said in a wounded voice before escaping into a moment’s silence again. 

He wasn’t sure if he should insist further or cut the conversation. “Gwen--”

“I’ll be waiting for you, Nik.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nik steps in to take care of his "friend"

“Hey, Nik!” 

Nik held his breath the moment he caught his first glimpse of her. Something about the whole aura around her was dramatically different from the usual Gwen he interacted with, so unlike the image she projected to the outside world. Outside the world of Game of Thrones, she was always one of the girliest girls he had met. He had seen her naked twice during the years he had shot with her. While she wasn’t really _naked_ naked, but kinda semi-clothed with skin-colored things--sort of body-suits covering her breasts and crotch area, it was good enough to get him really really _stirred_ and worked up. He had seen and been with countless naked women before - some real actresses, others, body doubles. More than once his hormones had gone overboard, leaping out of proportions during some such intimate scenes, but none of those prior encounters had prepared him for something like this. 

Nothing had ever turned him on like the sight that met his eyes. Blatantly awestruck, he stood there staring, dumb as a doormat, ogling the woman before him. 

She was wearing--rather, _wrapped in_ would be the right word, a nightie - one of those sexy ones made of fabric so thin that you could see through them. So short that it barely made it to her thighs, it clung to her body like a papery film, a second skin with nothing was left to imagination. Actually, the way these things were designed, nothing was meant to be left to imagination. These skimpy outfits were made to be seductive, though why she decided to torture him with one of these tonight was a question he couldn’t exactly dare ask her. 

Or himself.

“Aren’t you gonna come in?” she invited him again, blinking innocently like nothing had ever happened. 

“Y--yes,” he weakly answered. 

Her eyes, glassy though they were, courtesy the booze she had consumed, still retained the astounding brilliance that always got to the subconscious essence of him. And now again, she attacked him with them, oblivious of the power they had on him. That said, it was easier to tackle her eyes than the rest of her. Ignoring the thin straps on her shoulders that would, any moment, slide down her smooth arms converting his imagination into reality, the plunging neckline and the heaving breasts underneath it, her well-toned thighs and the vast expanse of legs below it, he followed her in once she had shut the door.

She pointed to the pair of chairs beside the bed. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll just bolt the door and come.” 

Nodding, he was about to do as told, when he heard her shout, “Fuck!” at the top of her voice. “Stubbed my bloody toe,” she grumbled, rattling away a few more curses to vent out her rage.

“Careful,” he cautioned her, when he noticed that her half-broken toenail was caught in a tear in the carpet. “Try not to pull it too much or you’ll trip and fall--”

But her drunken mind refused to register his words, his instructions simply bouncing off it, and even before he could finish speaking, she began kicking and stamping with ferocity, her brain obviously far from fully functional. Her brute force approach to freedom made matters worse, and she ended up ripping out more of the loose thread and entangling her foot further in the mess she was stuck in. 

“Fuck!” she cried again, and leaned forward to reach out for some sort of support to latch on to, but all that met her helpless fingers was thin air.

Instinct told Nik to take charge and help her, but he thought for a second, hesitant to approach her or touch her. A quick recollection of his dream made him take a step backward and reconsider. But all he needed was one hard look at her harassed face. His fleeting resistance went crashing to the ground, smashed to pieces with logic and rational thinking jumping out of the window.

And before she could succumb to another fall, he was there for her. 

Throwing his arms around her waist, he steadied her. “I’ve got you.” Chest to chest, he held her closer than necessary, her skimpily clad body causing serious problems for his madly beating heart. Breathing hard to pull himself together, he said, “Now gently extract your toe out of it.”

Gwen grasped the front of his shirt. “It’s the injured leg, Nik. My knee is hurting badly,” she complained, pouting like a little girl. Her large eyes were full of pain, calling out to him. “I can’t bend. I can barely walk or move my leg. If I try, I’ll fall again.”

“Try it just this once. You can do it without bending with just a little manoeuvre of your foot and some effort.” He was so damn worried that he might collapse into a puddle beside her, but his fear didn’t dissuade him from falling deeply into the endless chasm of her eyes. “You’re not going to stumble this time because I’m here, wench,” he said, dreamily gazing at her. “I’m holding you. I’m never going to let go of you.” 

But once he had said it, he felt slightly silly. His reassurance was cheesy to the core, something straight out of mushy love stories. If only Gwen had been in her senses, she would have laughed him off. He didn’t know what made him say it because it was an exaggeration to the severest extent possible.

Or, was it?

Despite his embarrassment and the awkwardness of the situation, he felt like he could do anything to keep her safe. He could go to any fucking extent to keep those eyes sparkling and shining with happiness.

After all, wasn’t that what friends were for?

She went about the task he set her, wriggling and squirming and adjusting herself in his arms. Every time she moved, Nik felt like he was wading through a sea of fire, the flames consuming him from all directions. Her hands roamed his chest like he was hers to explore. Her fingers crept up his ribs and to his collarbone, tickling him and caressing him, her well-manicured nails leaving tiny scratches on him. Her soft breasts pushed and rubbed against him, massaging themselves against his hard chest. Her nipples stabbed him like crazy. Firm like little pebbles, the enticing buds felt exactly like they did in his bothersome dream. 

His imagination was up and started running riot when he couldn’t stop thinking about what might have happened if they were not protected by the defensive barrier of their clothes. 

In spite of the problems he was battling, he couldn’t stop staring. He didn’t want to let go of her. His gaze drifted down her ocean eyes, along the rest of her pretty face to her full lips. Even devoid of the rich red lipstick she frequently wore, they looked just as attractive as ever. He had kissed that delicious mouth before, awkwardly though, with a dozen people out there to judge and correct him. While it had been a pretend smooch, meeting collective levels of satisfaction in less than a handful of takes, the lack of proper love scenes for Jaime and Brienne often had him trespassing into a world of what-if situations. Urges to explore the possibility of kissing her properly kept visiting him from time to time, throwing up visions of what it might be like should such a thing happen in real life. 

And every fucking time, much to his frustration, he ended up far from disappointed. As he was, this time. 

His dream returned to haunt his mind and send him into a state of arousal again, making him painfully aware of the gradually swelling bulge in his shorts. Possessed by a growing desire to rip her dress apart, he was dying to know what she looked like, properly naked. He wanted to sink his teeth into her creamy skin. He wanted to take her to bed and show her a good time. He wanted her screaming under him, writhing and panting and clawing at his chest in desperation while he pounded into her--

“Nik.” 

It was a request, a plea for him to probably piss off and keep his distance from her.

Slackening his grip, he allowed some air gap between them, ashamed of the out of control behaviour he had just exhibited. He had to start breathing normally and stop being a jerk. Putting a complete and conscious stop to such thoughts about her was the only solution to his predicament. 

“I think I can manage now, Nikolaj.” She mouthed that so softly that he had to lip read to figure it out. “You can let go of me.”

 _Nikolaj_ , not Nik, he noted, his chest buried under a strange heaviness. She had shown him his place, told him indirectly that he could buzz off her personal space.

“Right,” he agreed, nodding vigorously when he took his hands and his body off her. “Right. Let’s umm--” He ploughed through his brain to remember what he had come here for, and when he did, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the bundle he had brought with him. “Come on now, let’s get you all bandaged and good to go for the time being.”

Gwen nodded and began limping toward the bed by herself, and this time, Nik decided it prudent not to offer his assistance.

“Let me take a look at your knee,” he said, following her and seating himself beside her. Gingerly lifting her leg, he placed it on his lap. She twitched a bit when her smoothly waxed thigh brushed against his hairy leg, her reaction triggering off little explosions all through his troubled body. “How far are you able to stretch it?” he asked, brushing aside the distraction. 

“Not much,” she said with a grimace when he lay a fingertip on the sore part. “I’m able to walk, though just barely. I can’t bend my leg beyond a certain angle.”

“We’ll get you to a doctor in the morning. In the meantime, this should ease the pain a bit.” With his other hand conveniently wedged against her calf, he started gently massaging the affected area. While his fingers were meant to ease away her pain, the slow rhythmic movements began backfiring on him, and before long, the extended contact with her body began doing _things_ to him, things that would, most likely, return to torment him in wildly erotic dreams.

But try as he might, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t keep away from her. He kept going-- 

“That’s enough!” she cried, the panic in her voice flinging him back on track. 

Terrified and stung by her adverse reaction, he withdrew his hand. The agitation on her face told him that he had erred, a mistake he hoped he could correct. “I’m sorry,” he hastily apologised, eager to mitigate any damage he’d inadvertently caused. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain. I just--”

Flustered, she stopped him, “You caused me no pain, it’s just…” Her cheeks went all pink when she looked away from him. 

Nik was suddenly curious to find out more. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said evasively, bouncing back to her usual tone. 

“Right,” he huffed, keen on dissipating the tension he had created, “the bandage then.” Unwrapping the roll of cloth, he began winding it around her knee. Once or twice, she winced when he applied too much pressure, but other than that neither of them spoke nor reacted otherwise. As he worked toward his goal, he kept glancing at her from time to time, observing her, anxious not to cause her any further discomfort.

“Done,” he said, when he was almost winding up. Securing the outermost layer of the cloth bandage in place with a pin, he carefully set her leg on the bed and shifted aside to give her more room. “Go on, try to get some sleep now.”

She frowned. “I can’t. I tried.”

Nik leaned forward to get a proper look at the eyes she was bent on hiding from him. “Getting drunk's not exactly the way to catch up on sleep.”

She sighed, but still refused to look at him.

Guessing last night's shoot had something to do with her agony, he asked, “Why, Gwen?”

“I was upset,” she replied, and he could feel the pain in those words.

“With the scene,” he concluded with a nod. She didn’t refute nor acknowledge his assumption which confirmed his suspicion. “Gwen, look at me, please,” he requested, and when she did, he could see the hurt in those lovely eyes. “It’s just a show, wench. Forget it and move on. You have a long and bright career ahead.”

“I know, I’m trying,” she whispered. “But it’s difficult you know, because it's not just about the show. It's just that--” she sniffed, her voice all choked and emotional. “More than what Jaime did to Brienne, it's that bloody harsh thing you said to _me_ off-camera--”

“Gods, Gwen, that was just to make you cry on the set!” he explained again, appalled that it had subconsciously affected her this much.

“You don’t love me anymore,” she sadly repeated, her eyes moistening when she absentmindedly poked her fingernails in the bedspread. “How could you say that to me, Nik?”

“You know I didn’t mean a word of it, wench,” he said, trying his best to console her. “It’s quite the opposite, in fact.” 

Alert all of a sudden, she straightened. “What does that mean?”

“I mean--” His loose tongue and bad choice of words had put him in a delicate position. “You’re a dear friend and you do know that I love you,” he said, amending his open-ended statement to an acceptable explanation. “You’ll always be my best buddy, wench.”

Whether or not she was convinced, he didn’t know, but she nodded slowly, and that was the only reaction he got.

“And now I’ve got to leave.” He pressed the strip of painkillers into her hand. “Have one of these and try to get some sleep, Gwen. You have a long day tomorrow.” 

He got up and just as he was about to leave her bedside, she caught his hand, taking him by surprise. “Don’t go.”

“Gwen--” he began, wanting to excuse himself out of her company, but one look at her face blanked the objection out of his head.

Her eyes were full of raw emotion and a helpless need. In the few minutes he had spent with her, she had shown rare flashes of vulnerability, drifting away from the strong personality she normally was. This was a side of her he had never met before, a version of her he would love to know more about.

“Stay with me, Nik,” she pleaded, the big blue eyes beseeching him.

“Gwen--”

“Please,” she implored, tightly gripping his hand. “Stay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does he stay or does he leave? What do you think?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nik stays, of course ;)

_Stay with me…_

He was sure these words would keep coming back to haunt him; and so would her eyes.

Nik couldn’t look away. He couldn’t bring himself to deny those eyes. He couldn’t be cruel to her because he wasn’t Jaime. Even with Jaime, however else the script or the show-runners might want to put it, love was never the problem. He connected with Brienne like he did with no one else. Whatever be the explanation for his shocking abandonment of his wench, _‘I don’t love you anymore'_ was something Nik couldn’t digest. It wasn’t that. It could never be that. Jaime loved Brienne till the end.

With a heavy heart and condolences for his character, he returned to the real world.

This moment was about Gwen and himself, not Jaime or Brienne. Leaving her in the lurch would mean upsetting his friend, whereas staying… that would dump on him a whole truckload of other problems.

He continued standing there, deliberating. His prolonged hesitation to stay back seemed to have disappointed her, and she unwound her fingers from his. “Never mind,” she said with a forced smile, blinking repeatedly, just like Brienne did whenever she got too emotional. With a terse, “Goodnight,” she pulled the covers over her and reclined against her pillow.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked, crushed that he had hurt her, though he dared not share space on that bed with her.

“Umm--hmm,” she hummed, reaching for her mobile which lay next to her pillow.

“Bye, Gwen,” he said, hoping she'd be fine by morning. “Call me if you need anything else.”

“Sure.”

He found himself scouting for reasons to delay his departure. “What time’s your flight tomorrow?”

And she busied herself with typing away furiously. “Noon.” While she wasn’t curt, monosyllables meant she was upset, as did the stoic expression on her face. He wasn’t surprised. What other reaction was he to expect? 

“I’ll see you in the morning. You need to show that leg to a doctor and I’m coming with you.”

That got him her attention, and she looked up from her phone. “Thanks, Nik, but it’s okay. I know I’m such a bother for you--”

“Oh shut up, wench!” Nik shouted, cracking, at last, at her indifference which was beginning to kill him. “I wouldn’t have come here if I found you a _bother_.” 

Her features softened again. “I know,” she mumbled, nodding guiltily. “I’m sorry, I was being unreasonable. Of course, you might want to save some time for yourself. You’ve already done so much for me, been there whenever I’ve needed you without even having to ask for your company. Thank you--”

“Friends don’t thank each other for such trivial things,” he cut through her formal vote of thanks. “Remember, Gwen, any day, any time, I’ll always be there for you. Like I always say, I’m just a phone call away.”

Gwen smiled, melting his heart again. “Bye, Nik.”

With a slight nod, he walked away from her side, but when he reached the door, he couldn’t bring himself to turn his back to her and leave her like this. What good were friends if they couldn’t lend each other a shoulder of support? She was injured, upset and drunk - a bad combination to strike someone, all at once. He paused there, his hand on the doorknob for about thirty seconds. Then changing his mind, he made an about-turn and returned to her. 

Surprised, she looked up. “Have you left anything behind?”

“Yes, _you_ ,” he blurted without thinking, Jaime’s words when he had decided to go back to Harrenhal floating in his head. 

She looked lost and puzzled and adorably confused. “What?”

“Nothing,” he quickly covered up, relieved she hadn’t made the connection. “I’ve decided to stay here until I get you proper medical attention in the morning.”

She gave him a wide grin, and with it, improved his mood, because nothing brightened him up more than a hearty smile from her. “Try and get some sleep, Gwen.” 

Bracing himself for hours of solitude, he settled down on the chair with his mobile, hoping to catch up on some reading, when she called out, “Let’s watch something, Nik.”

Nik straightened in his chair, open-mouthed at her wild suggestion. “It’s 4:30 in the morning, Gwen--”

“I’m wide awake,” she slurred, once again, unleashing her soulful gaze on him, “and so are you.”

“Oh--” he groaned, not in the mood for it, nor wanting to distress her again. “Why don’t you go ahead and help yourself to whatever you feel like? I’ll just stick to reading or browsing something. I don’t really feel like a movie.”

“I was going to show you a compilation of all our scenes. Someone’s put up a fantastic video on youtube.” Colouring slightly, due to the spirits in her blood, or otherwise, Nik couldn’t say, she fluttered her lashes. “I was waiting for a chance to watch it with you. But if you aren’t up to it, it’s fine, really. I can do something else.”

Nik was in two minds. While rehashing old memories and good times might not be the right way for her to get over the horrible end they had just shot, watching all the Jaime and Brienne scenes and reliving years of their relationship wasn’t exactly a bad idea. It wasn’t as if he was yawning away, so what could be a better way to spend some quality time with her? “Alright,” he relented, succumbing to the power in those eyes again.

Gwen switched on her laptop, and once the video was up, she got under the covers again and went back to her seat against her pillow. “Come on,” she drawled, patting the empty side of the bed next to her. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Oh no,” he softly lamented to himself, visions from his dream swimming all over his head when he eyed the cozy covers, the inviting bed and the woman spread along one half of it. 

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, when he continued to stay aloof.

“Nothing.” Gulping down his fears, he got onto the bed and slunk to the opposite corner, keeping ample distance between them.

“Get under the covers or you’ll freeze beneath the AC,” she warned, and when he still didn’t budge, she threw him a severe look. “You can come closer and sit properly. I’m not gonna gobble you up.”

 _It isn’t you I fear,_ he felt like telling her, but burying away his jitteriness, he got beside her and slid under the covers. 

Without further ado Gwen brought up the video. Then they settled down to watch themselves on-screen. 

“You’re much uglier in daylight,” he watched himself say, and Gwen made a little noise of disapproval. Nik took to watching her instead of the scene. While her eyes were glued to the screen watching Jaime incessantly insult Brienne with an expression of growing distaste on her face, his were glued to her, studying her, carefully observing her reaction.

“You hated me,” she observed, making a sour face.

“ _Jaime_ , not me,” he corrected, “and he didn’t hate her.”

Her eyes moved off the scene and to him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, wondering why some viewers were unable to correctly gauge Jaime and his inner turmoil. “He has a crush on her. He hates that he’s attracted to her, which is why he pretends to hate her instead. That’s where all the insults and taunts come from.”

She seemed to consider his logic for a moment, then replied with a dragged out, “Hmmm,” before returning her attention to the screen. “He called out on her virginity,” she shouted, when the next taunt was thrown at Brienne. “That was rude and uncalled for.”

Nik grinned, enjoying her irritation. “But she secretly liked him too,” he nudged, just like Jaime would push Brienne’s buttons. “There’s a hidden desire buried beneath all the looks of loathing she gives him.”

Gwen turned to him again, suddenly more sober than she'd been all along. “To her, he was the Kingslayer until he--”

“--sacrificed his hand and jumped in front of a bear,” he supplied, in agreement. “That’s when you fell in love with me--”

“ _Brienne_ ,” she corrected, little spots of pink dotting her cheeks, “not me.”

“Right, Brienne... yes.” Nik stole a second away from her to focus on the wall and exhale deeply. This line between their real and reel lives was beginning to get increasingly faint, much to his annoyance and dread that the result might be something uncomfortable and regrettable. 

As the next couple of scenes played out, Nik couldn’t help but feel a little--no _tremendously_ distracted when Gwen moved a little closer to him, her warm fingers, under the covers, brushing against his hand. He could take his hand away. He could move a bit to put some space between them, but before he could, she slid into a semi-supine position nestling her head comfortably in his chest.

“The sword-fight,” she pointed out, linking her arm within his. “What a brilliant scene that was!”

The duel transported Nik to the glorious paragraphs in the book describing the fight. “Did you happen to read this, Gwen?” he couldn’t resist asking her, recalling how George R. R. Martin had written it. The familiar twitching in his groin was triggered again when phrases like _‘their swords kissed and broke apart_ ”, _‘he chased her’_ , _‘he pinned her to a tree’_ , _‘red flower blossoming on her thigh_ ’ and page-fulls of others exploded in his head.

“Nope,” she said, snapping him back to consciousness “But I’ve heard it is--”

“--described more as _fucking_ than fighting,” he explained for her benefit, heatwaves shooting up his body, blood rushing down to his cock. “Thankfully that wasn’t how it was shot, though.” Relieved, he dreaded what he might have had to put up with, if it had ended up that intimate.

About half a minute of silence haunted them where she didn’t reply. He ended up mentally cursing himself for bringing up the damned book reference to sex. Fortunately, he didn’t have to dwell too much because the scene came to an end with the duo to be captured by Locke.

“Ah, there comes the end of the journey for Jaime’s right hand,” Nik noted, “I’m sure--”

“Let’s not watch this part,” Gwen jumped, lunging for the laptop.

“Why?”

“I can’t sit through it.” She forwarded the video to skip past the attempted gang-rape and the hand-chopping scene.

“Is it because of Brienne’s attempted rape?” he asked, recalling how horribly she had screamed, acting though, it may have been.

Her hand folded over his right, and she met his eyes. His breathing quickening, he wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t know how to react to her. “I can’t watch you lose your hand over and over again,” she whispered, Brienne’s pain visible in her eyes.

“Jaime’s hand,” he murmured a soft correction.

He would’ve gone on for hours, gazing into her hypnotic eyes if it weren’t for Jaime’s loud scream when Qyburn began operating on him. “Fuck, that’s gruesome!” Gwen exclaimed, her face screwed in horror. “Without an anaesthetic, that must’ve been dreadful.” 

When the worst had passed, they came to the most iconic scene the duo had done till date. 

Gwen giggled like a schoolgirl the moment Jaime entered Brienne’s tub, his arrogant drawl filling the room. “Look at him,” she said, snuggling closer to Nik. “He’s in pain, but he still manages to flirt with her. Typical guy. Can’t resist a naked woman even if she’s his enemy.”

“Nah, he’s delirious. Not interested,” Nik shrugged her off, supporting his onscreen version when exactly the same dialogue came up. More than an explanation for Jaime's prickliness, it was to keep his own simmering desire at bay. Careful, this time, he refrained from bringing up the book version of this scene which described so much more about Jaime’s _physical reaction_ than what was depicted in the show.

“Not interested, huh?” Gwen turned to look up at him. “Minutes back you wanted to overpower me, fling me down, tear off my clothes,” she rattled off his lines. “You wanted to--” Shutting her mouth as soon as she realised what she had said, she blushed a deep crimson. “Umm--not you,” she mumbled, pressing her lips. “I was, of course, talking about Jaime, not you.”

That was what she thought. And that was what he wished it was. Pretending that last piece of conversation never happened would be in the best interests of them both.

And so, they went on to listen to Jaime’s mad king story in rapt attention, rather, Gwen was focussing, while he was busy stealing glances at her. “Absolutely beautiful,” she gushed, when the scene drew to a close and he collapsed in Brienne’s arms. “You should’ve got an Emmy for this, Nik. You deserved it.”

“Nah,” Nik said, abashed, “Peter and the others were far better than me.”

“Oh you were brilliant,” she cried, leaning into him, resting her body against his. The warmth from her bare arms seeped into him, and for a moment, he wished they were Jaime and Brienne and could live happily ever after in a world away from reality and D&D. “My knight in shining armor,” she proudly pointed out with a warm smile, when Jaime blackmailed Steelshanks into returning for her. 

“How could I not return for you, wench?” he said, and she broke into a shy smile. And somewhere, in another world, he could hear the sounds of the bear charging at them, of the struggles that followed until finally Rains of Castamere played in the background to depict Jaime’s triumph. 

He watched her _ooh_ and _aah_ through the scene where Jaime defied Locke to steal his girl away from the baddies. He admired the softness in her eyes when they stood at the gates of King’s Landing, exchanging a silent, yet meaningful look, where Brienne reassured Jaime that all would be well. “She’s the only one who understood him,” Nik said, translating the whole wordless conversation. 

“Look at the idiot flirting with her!” Gwen exclaimed, another drunken giggle escaping her when the scene cut to him and Brienne discussing Sansa at the Godswood. “Thing is, he cannot even flirt. He’s so pathetic.”

“Thank you for noticing and sympathising with him,” Nik dryly replied. “He’s been flirting for months. She’s just too dumb not to pay attention.”

“She’s not to blame! He’s been insulting her for months!” she attacked him with Brienne’s indignation and energy.

“Only because he has a soft corner for her and he cannot help it,” Nik explained, fully aware of Jaime’s psyche. “He’s begun to care for her. This… this odd woman, an outcast just like him, suddenly starts believing in him and it becomes too overwhelming for him.”

Gwen rewarded his theory with an understanding nod. “It’s the same with her,” she concurred, when the scene where Cersei called out Brienne’s feelings at Joffrey’s wedding began to play. “She’s fallen for him and she just doesn’t know it--”

“And now that she does,” Nik added, “she doesn’t know what to do with her feelings.”

“Such idiots,” Gwen said, and when she squirmed against him, his heartbeat soared to a thousand beats per second. “Such perfect a couple we were, until they ruined it all with that stupid end.”

“There’s still the books,” he suggested, hoping to put a smile again on her disheartened face. “I’m guessing there’ll be a better end for our characters.” Brienne’s crisp voice reading out his White book page perked him up. “Ah, there’s the Oathkeeper scene. Such a lovely one, that was! One of my favorites.”

“One of mine too,” she agreed, drifting off into a dreamy smile. “The gifts he gave her, the look in his eyes...” She sighed, making him wish they were transported to King’s Landing as Jaime and Brienne.

 _‘Goodbye, Brienne,’_ said Jaime in a tone so heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time, that Gwen went _‘awww’_ next to him. “He should’ve kissed her,” she purred, shooting Nik an accusatory look before going back to staring at the screen. And when Brienne rode away, leaving Jaime behind with no more words, just heart eyes to express his affection, Gwen continued her what-this-scene-should’ve-been with a, “He should’ve gone after her.”

“The sword was his heart,” Nik said, recalling exactly how he had played the scene. “He gave it to her, gave himself to her. If only I were the one in charge of the script...” he paused, having no doubt about how he would want their story to progress.

Gwen tilted her face up to look at him properly. “Tell me,” she prompted, her voice breathy and sort-of strange. “If you were to write it, how would it end?”

“Soon after Brienne left him, I would have him figure out his feelings for her and rush after her,” Nik detailed it out, the vision perfectly clear in his romantic mind. “Jaime would ride far and wide to look for his wench, and when reunited with her, he would shout out his love for her and kiss her senseless--” 

Her hand had crept up to his chest, blocking out his thoughts and blanking out the rest of the words in his mind. “Do it then,” she said, in the same breathless voice. His throat went dry. He couldn’t keep her away. He didn’t want to. And when she brought her other hand to his cheek, he wanted to die in her arms. 

But this wasn’t right. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. “Gwen--”

She stroked his beard, her scorching touch, once again, silencing him and blinding him to everything else. “Kiss me, Nik,” she whispered, flames of longing burning bright in her eyes.

To obey his brain that preached discretion and self-control, or surrender to his body; that was the question. “Gwen--”

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, she pulled him to her chest, her nails digging into his neck, her gorgeous eyes searing into his when she inched her face closer to his. “Kiss me,” she gasped, and before he could take in his next breath, her mouth was on his. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logic versus temptation, a difficult choice, isn't it?

When Gwen withdrew for a second, thinking this one kiss would satiate her and douse the flames that had been engulfing her, how sorely mistaken she was! 

The touch of his lips was enough to send her into a frenzy, evoking in her an incurable addiction to him. The scent of him, musky and masculine had spread into every part of her, driving her intentions astray and her senses craving for more. The fire was all over her, spreading rapidly, wild and high, a raging inferno that would need more than just a kiss to quench. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again, harder and fiercer this second time. She pressed close to him, her taut nipples prodding his firm chest muscles. She ached for him. She yearned for him. She held on to him as if… as if the world would come to an end if they didn’t get together, as though she would shatter to pieces if she didn’t have enough of him. 

She plundered his mouth with another kiss, then another… then came the next… 

_Gods_ , she could go on and on until the world actually came to an end… until...

_Something seemed to be seriously out of place..._

A few seconds into her raunchy attack of his mouth, Gwen froze, only now realizing what was wrong. While he had not resisted her advances, he wasn’t kissing her back, his lips, unmoved under hers, his body, rigid against hers.

_What have I done? Have I ruined everything beautiful I had with him?_

She pulled back, embarrassed and unable to face him. Her cheeks burning with shame, she mumbled a mortified, “Sorry, I--” 

She found it difficult to go further, to explain her brash display of lust. What could she probably blame her loss of control on? Alcohol? The effect of last night’s painful scene? The fact that he was sitting beside her, so devastatingly handsome and irresistible? Or was it because she couldn’t get enough intimate screen time with him? Or perhaps the realization that she might not run into Nik again, never shoot with him at least as far as Game of Thrones was concerned? 

“I’m sorry,” she tried again, dragging herself away to put some distance between them, hoping he would understand and not think too badly of her, “I thought you wanted it too--”

The rest of her words were buried under a surprised cry, and her breathing, a desperate gasp, when he pulled her into his arms and crushed her mouth with his, smothering her explanation, dismissing her inhibitions and second thoughts about what she'd just done. Finally, _yes at last finally_ , he had chosen to play along in this dangerous game of passion, to spar with her in this deadly duel of lust.

The flames consuming her flared even higher when he kissed her like a man who had never tasted a woman before. He pushed her into the pillows against the headboard, his chest hard against her tender breasts, his hands all over her, left, right, centre and crazy. She closed her eyes and surrendered to him, his blazing lips rubbing against hers, the heat in him driving her insane, her cunt crying out for him, her body about to explode from the pressure it had been holding all along. He nudged her lips apart with his tongue, treading beyond the invisible barriers they had been cautious not to breach... their resistance, at last, finding its way down the drain. He licked her, he sucked her, he covered her lips with hungry nicks and bites... leaving her helpless and blissfully breathless and silently begging for more.

 _Fuck me,_ she wanted to shout through the rooftop. _Take me to the moon,_ she wanted to demand. _Make hot, sweet love to me,_ she wanted to tell him. She wanted to have the best sex of her life. She had to let him know exactly what she wanted him to do, what she’d like to do to him, but he barely gave her a chance to speak, his mouth glued to hers, overpowering her, vanquishing her, devouring her…

She couldn’t stand it anymore, her cunt throbbing, the pain unbearable, the void inside her growing, waiting for him to fill it, to relieve her of this torment. _We need to get our fucking clothes off. Now!_

And as if he’d read her mind, he pulled down the flimsy straps of her night gown, ripping a huge tear along his way in his violent attempt to get her out of it. He set out on a battle against the hindering piece of clothing, sliding it down her chest, her waist, until he could get his prying fingers all over her naked body. His mouth kept punishing her with kiss after burning kiss, while his hands busied themselves with her breasts, caressing them, pinching her nipples, hurtfully, yet deliciously.

His mouth left hers to target her throat, leaving wild wet kisses along its searing trail down to her chest.

“We--need--to--” she started to say, dying to get him naked and down into her, but gasps and moans, cries and whimpers were all she had in response when he swooped down on her breast. His beard tickled and scratched her, the sweet burning friction churning up fresh waves of desire inside her, her arousal hitting a new level of unbearable when he had her poor nipple trapped between his teeth. “Get… your… fucking--” She had no choice but to pause again, to recall what she wanted to tell him, but he wouldn’t let her, his hand torturing one breast and driving her nuts, while his mouth merrily took to feasting on the other. He had her flat on the bed now, his well-built frame on her, his erection straining against his shorts, struggling against her thighs, eager to find its way into her, to give her the best night of her life. “Get your fucking shirt off, Nik,” she managed, at last, her hands groping with his buttons, keen to get to his skin, to get his warm body on hers and his cock buried deep within her dripping core.

Withdrawing for just enough time to peel his t-shirt off, he was soon back on top of her, unable to stay away from her for even a minute or two extra to get rid of his shorts. “Oh, Gwen,” he rasped, claiming her mouth again, and she threw her legs around him--

“Owww!” she yelped, breaking the kiss when a sudden jolt of pain shot through her, bursting her knee open.

Nik hurriedly got off her. “Did I hurt you?”

“It’s not you,” she groaned, rubbing her aching joint. In her mad attempt to consummate her attraction for him, she’d forgotten about her vulnerability.

She sat up. That was it. The mood had passed, and on his face was a look of guilt and shame, perhaps. To her dismay, she was reminded of the post-sex scene they had shot which had Jaime staring at the ceiling, sleepless and tense.

_Does he regret kissing me? Does he feel like Jaime did, worried and anxious, after he had spent countless passionate sexy nights with Brienne? Does Nik too, like Jaime, have someone else to go back to? One he cannot let go of?_

“Sorry, that was inappropriate,” he mumbled again, averting his eyes and keeping off her unclothed body. “I shouldn’t have--” He said no more, but pulled out his tee from beneath her leg and slipped back into it.

Regret, it was _,_ clear as crystal and obvious as hell in the shame in his voice. Her chest weighed down by a burden heavier than a ton, she shrunk to a corner. With a heavy sigh and a silent decision to keep away from him to the fullest extent possible, she slowly pulled on her gown, or whatever of it wasn’t reduced to tatters.

“Actually it was my fault,” she said, taking the blame for initiating it all, her voice small and her morale deflated as she cursed herself for her inability to keep her impulse in check.

His back to her, she could see him breathing heavily, his body heaving under the effort. “Forget this ever happened, Gwen. We’re good. We’ll always be good friends. Despite what happened, nothing changes between us.”

 _Forget? Yeah, sure! As if it’s that easy._ “Um--hmm,” she hummed, smothering her ache.

“I-- I’ll crash on the couch for the rest of the night,” he went on, his face still away from hers. 

“Sure,” she agreed, then got under the covers, hoping the night would come to an end soon. 

Sinking into the mattress, she closed her eyes, praying for sleep to come and get her out of this misery. Maybe she had mistaken his flirting for more than friendship. Maybe he didn’t feel anything more than that for her. He had come to offer her comfort and she had thrown herself into his arms, without thinking, without applying her common sense, without bothering to assess the consequences. And he had succumbed to a weak moment, something he would've definitely regretted tomorrow had they gone all the way.

But all wasn't lost yet. Come morning, she would fly to London, away from him, away from all this. She would have to return, of course, for the promos and interviews, but that wouldn’t be the same as shooting with him. 

While painful it was, perhaps it was good that she wouldn’t see much of Nik again. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*~*

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“You okay, buddy?” Peter’s voice floated across his subconscious, bringing him out of thoughts of Gwen and memories of the wonderful few moments he had shared with her that night. 

“Yeah--yeah,” Nik replied, trying to sound normal, hoping his on-screen brother wouldn’t go full-fledged Tyrion on him. “I’m fine,” he said in what he thought was a convincing tone, eager to keep Peter away from this subject. He wanted to talk about something else, anything other than dwelling on his mental turmoil. 

“You’re not,” Peter asserted, setting down his drink. His sharp eyes were fixed on him, studying him, seeing past his words, his false sense of wellness, trying to figure out what was on his mind exactly like Tyrion did.

While the last few days were, no doubt, a good-to-have break with his next shoot commencing in about a week to film his King’s Landing scenes, sometimes intense drinking sessions with close buddies like his current companion resulted in a lot more stress than a gruelling day at work.

“Just tired,” Nik rattled off the first excuse in his mind, hoping for his friend to bite the bait.

“You’re not-- _you_ ,” Peter pointed out, his razor eyes digging deeper into Nik’s. “We’ve been lazing around here for three days. You can’t still be tired!”

“I’m fine,” Nik repeated the only line that came to his head like a parrot, having no better words to express his desire to change the subject. “Now--”

“Missing her?”

Nik recoiled in shock, speechless for a few seconds.

While Peter wore a good-natured, well-intentioned smile, and the inquiry was, most likely, innocent, a rush of dread swept through him. What if word of their midnight shenanigans had breached the safe boundaries of her hotel room? What if Peter, or worse still, any of the others had got wind of what had transpired behind those doors?

“Who?” Nik croaked, worried his face might betray the truth if it wasn’t already out there.

“Your last scene with her was emotionally draining, wasn’t it?” Peter went on, searching his eyes. “Pretty nasty, I agree, with Jaime giving up a life he could have had for our vile sister who deserves to die--”

“I don’t,” Nik made a hasty attempt to cover up.

Peter stopped smiling, his brows meeting in a curious frown. “You don’t-- what?”

“Miss her,” Nik lied through his teeth, hoping he had made a decent attempt at it. “I don’t miss Gwen, she’s just a co-star, a--”

“Just a co-star?” Peter gave him an incredulous look. “Are we all just co-stars, Nik? Haven’t we forged a bond, something akin to deep friendship as an outcome of spending considerable time with each other every year for nearly a decade?”

 _More than just a bond,_ Nik mentally corrected him, remembering their furious make-out session, the taste of her. The memory of her soft curves refused to leave him in peace, the way her hard tits pressed against his body invading his dreams every night, tormenting him, torturing him, making every minute hell for him. While he would’ve gladly given his right hand to go all the way with her, to make love to her, to lie there in her arms, buried in her soft sweet depths for the rest of the night, it might have had serious repercussions, personal and professional. She was drunk and not in her senses. The shoot had left her in an emotionally vulnerable state. In such a condition, it was only natural that one would seek the warmth and comfort of their best friend. What if they had done the deed and she’d regretted it the next morning? What if he had not discretely left her room in the wee hours of the morning? What if someone had caught them together? Their friendship would’ve been shattered to pieces. Not just that, they would’ve ended up an easy feed for gossip, the probable end result taking a massive toll on their careers.

“Nik? Hello?” Peter clicked his fingers, snapping him back to his senses again. “You still with me or--”

“Yeah,” Nik murmured, perspiration decorating his forehead despite the full blast of the AC. “Yup. Here. Am here.”

“You drifted away without answering me,” Peter persisted.

“What’s there to answer?”

“There’s nothing wrong in missing her, Nik. She’s a friend. You’re allowed to feel like that at times.” Peter leaned across, his tone warm and comforting when he said, “She’ll be back for the interviews soon. Once she works things out with the BBC-”

“BBC?” Nik was surprised. She had never mentioned this to him.

“Yeah, the new rom-com she’s set to star in,” Peter informed him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “That's what she's gone to London for. To finalise things. Didn’t she tell you?”

Nik was quiet. A rom-com meant loads of on-screen kissing and maybe even intimate scenes.

“Since you obviously aren’t aware,” Peter went on, taking pity on his clueless face, “they’ll be zeroing in on the male lead in the next few days, her new co-star--”

“New romantic lead, huh?” Nik couldn’t help blurting out, his tone disapproving and sour. It was a reflex reaction, a realization that she would soon move past him and forge a bond with someone else. She wouldn’t be Brienne forever, nor was he Jaime. But somehow, the idea of her spending time with other men, engaging them with her lovely laugh and sparkling eyes irked him more than he had thought it would.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to you and Gwen than the world can see?” Peter guessed, his eyes killing him with their gleam of suspicion. “I hate to tell you this, but you sound quite jealous, Nik.”

_I do, don’t I?_

“Why would I be jealous?” he quickly denied, pushing aside Jaime’s reaction which returned to haunt him. “A new show is something wonderful. I’m happy for her.”

Peter didn’t look like he believed a single word of it. “Even if she’s paired with someone else? Even if it means she’ll be kissing and--um--shooting _other stuff_ with other men?” 

“Of course!” Nik tried to inject confidence in his assertion. “We’re professionals, aren't we? She has her life and I have mine.”

“Hmm,” Peter mused, thoughtful and pensive.

“There’s nothing between Gwen and me.” Nik was keen to keep things clear between them. “In fact, I don’t even think I’ll keep in touch with her once the last leg of promos are over,” he said, deciding just that. Staying away from her was best for them both, to avoid unnecessary complications.

“Hmm,” said his friend again, returning to his drink. 

_I’m not jealous,_ Nik told himself, going back to staring at his glass. _Why would I be?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can they really stay away from each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I've been away for way too long and apologies for the delay. With life calling, I had to take a break.  
> For those still following this, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Gwen read and re-read the message about five to six times before putting down her phone and pacing around again. And when the strain of it exhausted her again, she resorted to sinking into her bed and returning to absorb every word of those two precious sentences again.

**“I’m in London. Can we meet for dinner tonight?”**

He was supposed to be in Belfast all month, winding up his King’s Landing scenes. So what the hell was he doing here? Deep breaths and forced attempts to calm herself down didn’t help. To top the unexpectedness of this WhatsApp that hit her out of the blue was the recollection of how ‘spending a few friendly hours together’ had turned out the last time. 

**“I’m busy,”** she started to type, her fingers shaking over every alphabet they reached. **“Some other time, maybe?”**

She should’ve hit send and tossed the phone away for the rest of the night. That would have made sense. But instead, she hit backspace and erased the whole thing out before plunging into another bout of deep thought about what her reply should be.

**“Sounds good. 8 p.m, my place?”**

Her heart pounding like a hammer against her ribs, she followed up the invitation with her address, then looked at the time. She had about an hour or so to herself before she would be treated to another visit from her handsome co-star.

A quick shower and she was done. Since it was just Nik and this wasn’t a date, she stuck to a simple pair of cotton trousers and a shirt that was anything but glamorous. She had to if she wanted to avert a disaster like their last time together. Once she was done with ordering food from a nearby Chinese restaurant, she took to prowling her living room for want of something to do. Glancing at the time every couple of minutes did nothing to ease the butterflies in her tummy. It moved along at its own sweet pace with 20:00 arriving only when it did.

Ten past eight… and there was no sign of him.

She perched at the edge of the sofa hoping a change of posture might help her calm down. But it didn’t, and again, she took to chasing the time.

Half past eight…

Nik was never someone who turned up late at shoots or social events. Why then--

The doorbell rang and her heartbeat picking up from where it had left off when she had dashed off that invitation to him, she opened the door.

“Hey.”

With a smile that would, no matter whatever be her mental state, leave her jittery and her legs boneless and shaky, she let him in with a circumspect, “Hey, Nik.”

He looked around, eyes everywhere else except on her, before he followed her inside. “I’ve got you some wine.” He handed her a bottle and a wrapped box to go with it. “And some chocolates.”

“That wasn’t necessary,” she said, accepting the gifts.

“Nice place you have here,” he observed, admiration in his eyes as he took in her interiors. 

She smiled at the compliment. “Not fully set up yet because I keep coming and going.”

His eyes back to her, he nodded. “But now, with this BBC filming beginning soon, I guess this is going to be your permanent home.”

There was a shade of accusation in his tone but Gwen couldn’t blame him for it. While she had been meaning to tell him about her new assignment after their last shoot, with the chaos that night and everything else that followed, it had completely slipped out of her drunken mind. The subsequent morning, they could barely face each other, let alone venturing into a personal conversation like this.

“Sorry,” she sheepishly apologised. “I should’ve mentioned it to you earlier. I meant to tell you after the shoot but--”

“You had a lot of things on your plate that night.” If he was still miffed with her, he was doing a tremendous job of hiding it from her. “It’s fine. We’re good.”

“Good.”

Suddenly famished, she led him to the dining table. No more talk followed and the two of them dug through their delicious meal. Gwen looked up at him when he was busy eating, dying to asking what he was doing here when he was supposed to be miles away, bang in the middle of a shoot, but refrained from broaching the subject until they were done.

Once they had retired to the living room armed with their glasses of wine refilled, she couldn’t keep it within her, the contentment of a full stomach and the slowly mounting effect of the alcohol in her blood prompting her to bluntly bring it up. “What brings you here, Nik?”

“The shoot isn’t done, I was told,” she went on, when he looked up at her from the rim of his glass. “Aren’t you like… expected to be in the middle of your duel with Euron or your iconic death scene in the arms of the woman you love?” Once she had said it, she regretted the unnecessary sarcasm in her voice. It wasn’t his fault if Jaime and Brienne didn’t get to be endgame. “I mean,” she continued, mellowing down, “that’s not what I--”

“I came here to meet you.”

Gwen slowly set her glass down. Now that was more unexpected than his visit itself.

“I mean--” Face flushed with the amount of drink he had consumed, he seemed to stumble around for words. “I mean, I’m on a break and I thought I might come down here to beat the stress of work.”

She nodded.

“And while I’m here,” he continued, taking another gulp to show him the way, “I thought, why not pay you a visit.”

Gwen decided to drop it at that. “I’m so happy that you came,” she said with nothing but sincerity. When she arrived, she had braced herself for days of boredom, but little did she know she would run into her best buddy so soon.

“Congratulations, by the way,” he said, tipping his glass towards her. “This show is mighty big, I’ve heard. Will do loads for your career.”

“Thanks.” A stab of guilt for having not shared such a wonderful development with him earlier pricked her again. “And I’m sorry again--”

“Ah, It’s fine.” He got up to come and sit down beside her. “Tell me more about this show. I heard it’s a rom-com,” he inquired, wearing his usual friendly smile again.

“Not exactly a rom-com, but a full-on romance is how I’ll describe it, thought it treads lightly on the angst,” she explained, ruing the fact that she would have to play out all the delicious kisses and those lavish love making scenes with someone who wasn’t Nik. 

He arched his brows. “So there’ll be a lot of--”

“Sex, yes,” she finished, hoping she wasn’t blushing too much. It was one thing to stay awake on lonely nights dreaming about him and picture him deliciously working his way on her body, but to discuss steamy scenes with the man who made her nerves tingle was a different league of torture, altogether.

“Have you confirmed the male lead?”

With a deep sigh, she got up and walked across to the window. “Not yet. I’ve auditioned with many but the casting directors always end up dismissing every one of them saying we lacked the chemistry.”

“But we didn’t.” His voice making the hair on her neck stand erect, told her he had followed her.

She turned, attempting to breathe normally, but his closeness was wrecking her efforts to stay calm. “I beg your pardon?”

“Some say,” he began hoarsely, then cleared his throat to go on. “Most fans have been saying we had the best chemistry on Game of Thrones, wench.” He sounded odd. He had a strange look in his eyes, his pupils dilated, because of the drink, perhaps. “And they haven’t even watched our sex scene yet.”

Taken in by the intensity of his expressions, she didn’t know what to say.

“You haven’t done a full-fledged love scene before, right?”

“Except with you,” she agreed, refusing to face the fact she’d find it difficult to move on and get intimate with another man, although just on-screen. “But I don’t think it’ll be too--”

“How explicit are these scenes, Gwen?” he asked, his breath getting closer and warmer, a mild whiff of jealousy in it. 

“I play an escort who meets a rich businessman who hires her for a night, so--”

“Sounds like Pretty Woman,” he immediately pointed out, his handsome face disturbed by a frown. “And that also means, in the current day’s standard, loads of fucking--”

“Yes.” She didn’t know what to think of his reaction, of where this was going. “It is more or less like Pretty Woman, though I’m not exactly the pretty girl Julia Roberts played--”

“Oh, you are.” His face was barely inches off hers. “You are pretty, Gwen, so pretty that I…” he left it there, his eyes dropping to her chest.

She wanted to, but couldn’t object to his claim. She wanted him to go on and unfurl this dream before her, fully and completely, down to its most explicit details. “Nik--” 

His mouth caught hers in a kiss so deep that the visions of that night felt tame in comparison. And she kissed him back like she was in a dream. God, she wanted him and she wanted him so bad. She wanted him to go all the way tonight, to feel his thick cock buried deep inside her. She wanted to feel him fill every last particle of her being, just like he had dangerously come close to that night. “Mmm, Nik,” she purred, when his tongue caressed hers, the hunger she’d been resisting and pushing away surfacing with a vengeance, keen to prove a point and show her that no matter how hard she tried, she would always succumb to his charms. He set off in her a heady sense of femininity and the warmth of being needed and desired and she let herself get carried away, deeper into him, farther than they'd gone before.

“Gwen.” He abruptly pulled away as if realising something. “Gwen, I--”

“Stay with me tonight,” she said, her breasts growing slightly heavy as they pressed into his chest. Lust and a craving for him began cruising along her body, all through her veins and over her skin and every nerve beneath it. And if she wasn’t too mistaken, their needs were one and so was their thirst for each other. “Stay, Nik--”

“Fuck, wench,” he grunted in desperation, then gave in to her passion, his lips drawing hers in another torrid kiss as his hand dropped to her chest. “Are you sure--” His kisses were a delightful hindrance to their apology for a conversation, and he left long pauses between his words, his palms kneading her breasts, fingers tweaking her nipples through her shirt and bra. “Are you absolutely--”

“Yes,” she moaned softly, surrendering to his mouth and his fingers and his body pushing into hers against the glass window. “Yes.”

He pressed up against her for another fiery lip lock. He teased her for a moment, holding back, but when he gave her what she wanted, it was clear he was as keen as she was to pick up from where they had left off that night. Melting into his touch, she held his face, stroking his cheek and feeling the ticklish sensation of his beard against her fingers, not wanting to close her eyes in case he disappeared and she had been daydreaming.

But no. Nik was here and this was really happening tonight, his touches penetrating her skin, his kisses deep and passionate, his tongue tangling with hers.

He released her but only so they could get undressed, and her desire now climbing to a peak and out of her control, she proceeded to unbutton his shirt with a furious urgency while he worked frantically on hers. Her breaths were coming in fast sharp pants, her skin tingling with need wherever he touched her.

“Touch me there,” she helplessly whimpered, when he let her bra drop to the floor, leaving her breasts exposed and at his mercy. In ready agreement with her, he ran his palms over them, holding them, squeezing them, admiring them. She squealed with delight but this wasn’t enough. She wanted his cock and she wanted it hard. Her fingers unstable from both her intoxication and nervousness, she reached for the button on his trousers, undid it, and he let his hands glide down her front to reciprocate, though he didn’t stop kissing her, exploring her body, going on as if he were starving, starving for her but unsure about where and how to begin.

She released a long groan and gave into him when his hands were on her butt, sliding, caressing before slipping between her legs and searching for her dampness. “Nikolaj,” she gasped, spreading her legs, the tremors beginning at her groin and going down upto her toes when he fingered her over her knickers, rubbing, stroking, giving her the very start of what she needed.

She dragged her fingers down his chest, arched her back and sought his kisses. “That feels so good.”

She was the sole focus of his attention, her tits, her cunt, her clit, and he spared no effort to make her gasp and squirm uncontrollably in his arms. But from the sensation of his throbbing erection, it was clear he wasn’t going to hang around patiently for long. Just like her, he wanted to get down and dirty, and to be quick about it. They had dragged this on for too long.

Kicking away the clothes that lay pooled at her ankles, she set out to finish what she had begun with his trousers, but before she had even an inch of progress, he shoved her back against the window. He peeled down her soaked knickers and drove his fingers into her pussy. 

A knotted groan rose up her throat. “That feels good. Sooo damn good, Nik.”

In answer, he began working her, so deftly, so deeply, every move, so intimate and intricate an experience that she thought she might come right there, sliding down against the window. He thrust harder and she jerked onto him, back arched, not bothering to hold in her whimpers of delight. She felt his mouth stroke her chest and move lower until his tongue swirled across her nipple. She couldn’t suppress the cry that escaped her when he sucked on her tits one at a time bringing them to a state of rock-hard arousal she would remember for days to come.

It took her more than a fumble to get rid of his boxers and when his cock was out and pushing into her belly, it seemed as if he couldn’t sustain anymore.

And Gwen wasn’t really complaining.

She wanted to watch his face as he entered her, witness and enjoy his pleasure as he drilled into her snug cunt, but Nik seemed to have something else in mind. 

He didn’t enter her. Instead, he dropped to his knees, his tongue sliding into her wet and eager pussy.

A gasp escaped her as he spread her open, his strong arm wrapped around her leg, keeping her from falling to pieces. She writhed under his efforts, her agony rocketing sky high as she reached back to spread herself for him, submitting to his passion and offering herself to him. He started gently, but quickly bounced up the intensity. 

So much. So hard. 

Until he was properly fucking her with his tongue. The force of his attention and his determination to feast on her left her reeling and she had to hold on to his shoulders as he slurped, sucked, moaned, licking her, bathing in her juices. Caught between the cold glass, now damp due to her sweat, and the warm tongue massaging her pussy, Gwen was on cloud 9, floating somewhere where no one but Nik could be with her. His tongue was firm and demanding against her clit as he caressed her in rhythmic up-down motions, his lips nibbling her most intimate spot. She lifted her hips as she gently gyrated into him, enjoying the wetness of her pussy against the molten fire of his mouth. 

“Oh fuck.” 

She bit her lip hard when she felt her orgasm come at her, quick and fast as he lapped at her sensitivity, the sweetness of his tongue, strong and hard against her aching arousal, and when it did, it left her on fire and weak in her knees, craving for the real thing as she supported herself against the surface behind her. 

She wanted him inside her now. The thought of his rigid shaft made her almost drown in her liquid need for him, so she reached back, begging without words for him to do it properly. She was horny for his cock and nothing short of that would suffice to satisfy her.

“Mmm, I love your taste,” he murmured barely loud enough for her to hear before he left a little bite on her thigh and stood up.

At first, he teased, kissing her over her shoulder and down her breasts and letting his cock slide along her tortured pussy. Then, he probed with just the tip, as if testing the waters, slicking himself with her juices.

When he finally pushed in, he filled her completely.

“Oh Nik,” she whispered when he began moving, the sensation of his ample cock pushing far and wide into her had her screwing up her eyes and yelping out his name. “ _Nik!_ ”

He said nothing, but the sound of his breaths, the periodic grunts and the force with which he was going on assured her it wouldn’t be long. He was fucking her hard and fast, with steely determination, the glass insensitively cool against the smooth skin of her back.

“I’m--” she gasped, her fists clenched into a ball as she tethered on the edge of everything and nothing “--I’m going to come.”

But he didn’t let her.

Nik slowed down. And grabbing the moment when he slipped away from her pussy, she grasped his hot hard cock that was damp with her arousal, keen to give him a generous helping of his own medicine. To give him a feel of the torture. As she worked him fast, punishing him the way he had done to her, he caught her mouth in a kiss, holding her face, his eyes, dripping with far more lust for her than Jaime had for Brienne.

Yearning to get a taste of him, she sank to her knees, taking in the sight of his flat belly and well-toned muscles.

She saw him watching her as she took him into her mouth, the little kisses she placed on his tip making him twitch in anticipation for more. She let her tongue caress his girth as she pulled him deeper into her mouth before slowly releasing him, the motions making him cup her head as he surrendered to her advances. She felt herself soaking again when she heard him moan in pleasure, his body tensing and relaxing to follow her rhythm as she took him deeper into her. 

He moved suddenly, and as she released him, he dragged her back to her feet and backed her up against the window, his mouth hot and demanding as he pinned her against it. They began kissing with a feral force let loose, their mouths were a perfect medley of their arousals, a passionate symbol of the moments gone by. He reached behind her to grab her bottom and give it a squeeze, his tongue tangled into hers, the feel of his hard cock against her own wetness causing her to feel drunk, raw passion and the feral need to get past all limits making her feel dizzy in a good sort of way.

Next thing she knew, he had her leg hoisted up against the television cabinet, his cock angling toward her pussy, aiming and ready for a grand finale.

She trembled in anticipation of him penetrating her for the second time. And when he did, her entire body and all her senses revolved around him. That was all that existed, him in her and their bodies becoming one in a union that had taken forever to come. He pounded into her the way he had before, with a wild energy she’d never seen in him before. “Nik,” she gasped, not knowing what else to say when his every move lifted her sensations, took her above and beyond this fucking room.

Answering her with a low growl, he fucked her with more urgency, as if her panting breaths and the sounds of his name were fuelling his desire, bucking up his need to ride her harder.

She was getting ready to come. And this would be a monster, she knew it, when he went on, gripping her waist and grinding over her clit perfectly, like he had been familiar with her body and what she wanted for ages. She was so wet, her entire body throbbing and shaking with need, the urgency to release, clutching and strangling her. 

“Gwen. Gwen. Gwen,” he chanted, his breaths hot and heavy as he drove harder, deeper.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me come, Nik.” Desperate words were all she could repeat like a broken record, her breaths, broken and choppy like her speech and laboured. “Oh God.”

“Gwen,” he roared again, sucking into her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone. “Oh, Gwen.”

Letting her cries of ecstasy echo around the room, she surrendered to her climax. On and on her orgasm washed through her, every nerve twitching in bliss and her pussy clamped around his hard cock, hanging on to him. “Oh fuck, Nik.” She pressed her cheek against his, holding him close, her sweat seeping into his beard. 

“Oh God!”

As her climax began to fade away, it was time to meet his.

“Go on, Nik,” she hissed, and he pumped into her, pushing up the tempo again, fucking her with gusto. Her pussy was still throbbing, alive, her orgasm still hovering, the ghost of it still around. She wanted him to come apart with pleasure, so much pleasure, and so intense that he'd forget everything else... Just like he had done with her.

He locked his arms around her tighter, lines of agony and bliss decorating his features. His chest rose and fell against her breasts, his breaths as shallow as hers. “Gwen, oh…”

He was on the brink of it. She could tell from the way he started to stretch her again, the desperation in the grip he held on her. She could sense the explosion begin. One that was sure to knock the living daylights out of her.

Faster and faster he moved, every thrust taking him a step closer. His breath grew heavy. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Her lips went in search of his, trapping him in a fiery dose of passion and he began to thrust against her, intense and wild, his cock head hitting spots she had never known had existed within her, his balls slapping violently into her thighs. Lines of pleasure and pain marking his forehead, he caught hold of her hair, then snaked his hand down to the nape of her neck, holding her, taking her with him.

Then, she could feel it too.

And before he could go all the way, he pulled out of her, his sweet release trickling down her thigh as they both collapsed slipperily against the sweat-covered glass.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP with a happy ending for which I have the end state and the outline chalked out. So do let me know if you enjoyed this instalment and would like to read more.


End file.
